Enemy of mine
by IdunnsApples
Summary: When his old schoolfriend Taylor Morton is released from Azkaban, Greyback tries to team up with her and start a new gang of Snatchers. With his status now threatened, how will former leader Scabior react?
1. Chapter 1

Anyone paying enough attention to the darkness out in the street may have noticed how, for late October, the darkness was a little too compact, too dark. The stars were shining, although neither they nor the moon seemed to have much impact on the darkness that had blanketed itself completely on the main road of the village. Anyone with any sense would be inside, warming up, avoiding the dark and damp of late autumn. Fortunately for the young witch no one was paying attention.

All Muggles were inside and she stood alone out in the street, keeping to the shadows. At the end of the cul de sac, she stopped in front of an empty house. Its dark windows gaped, contrasting strongly to the lit, softly glowing ones of the neighbouring houses.

Stepping to the front door, she paused before muttering Alohomora and swinging the door open. Standing in the abandoned hallway, she took in the silence. The slightly musty smell of age and stale air filled her nose. Casting Lumos, she stepped through the front room and walked up the stairs, steps creaking slightly. At the top of the staircase she turned and entered the room to her immediate right, ignoring the hallway that led on down to five other rooms.

Cobwebs. Dust. Mouse droppings. Mould.

The room was cold and empty, a draft whistling in through a shattered windowpane.

Stepping to the window, she gazed out into an overgrown garden surrounded by an old brick wall. The property was the last in the road and bordered onto fields, and further away, a wood.

Inhaling deeply, she reminisced in memories, scents, and noises.

She remembered the feeling of the sun on her face after getting up. The way the light played on the windowpane and the first rays of sunshine through a raincloud. She remembered the way the snow would pile against the window in winter. The way the meadows were blanketed and the wood rose out of the whiteness starkly.

She hadn't seen sun or snow for quite some time now. The cold and the damp, rain, drizzle, hail- those things she was more than accustomed to now. But sun?

It had been 11 years since she had seen the sun and brought disgrace upon her family by being locked in Azkaban.

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Greyback paused before flicking the page back. Something had caught his eye. A name he recognised. It was only a small article, hardly worth a read, if the name hadn't caught his eye.

Taylor Morton.

He remembered the surname and, as he went back in time in his mind, back to his years at Hogwarts, he associated faces to the name. There had been four of them, three boys and a girl. And what a girl she had been…

The interesting thing about the Mortons was that every child had been sorted into a different house. The eldest son, Greyback had forgotten his name, had been in Gryffindor. He had been in his 5th year when Greyback arrived at the school. Then there was the second eldest, Jonathan, a Hufflepuff. He has been in his 3rd year when Greyback arrived. The third Morton boy was sorted at the same time as Greyback. Sam Morton was in Ravenclaw and rightly so- he excelled at his studies.

That left the youngest Morton: a girl. Fenrir was 15 when Taylor walked up to the sorting hat. She was one of only eight new slytherins that year. She was also the only girl. While other young females might have been intimidated, she was pleased. Sliding onto the bench next to her seven fellow first years, she was welcomed by the prefect, and after grinning widely at everyone at the table, she turned in her seat, searched for her second eldest brother and shot him a triumphant look. If anyone at the Slytherin table wondered about the fiery young girl that had just joined them, none were more curious than Greyback, though he didn't show it openly. He knew her older brothers after all, and, considering the circumstances, was pretty friendly with Sam.

Some older students at Slytherin, especially the female prefects, worried that as the only girl Taylor would mope around on her own or stick to her brothers, but Taylor wasted no time in befriending her fellow slytherins, completely unperturbed by the fact that she shared a dormitory with older girls.

She had qualities of all her brothers – Ryan's physical prowess (she tried out for, and successfully obtained the post of seeker at 12), Jonathan's loyalty and eagerness to defend her friends and family and Sam's intellect. Put together with her quick wit, dry humour and occasionally sharp tongue, she was pretty much the perfect slytherin.

She was alike to her brothers not only in character traits but also in mannerisms- sometimes acting very unlike a young girl. She ate her portions of food 9the size of small mountains) like a pig when hungry, swore like a sailor, jinxed like it was going out of business and, in later years, managed to drink older students under the table and still fly straight.

Taylor had grown up without a mother- Samantha Morton had died during the first wizarding war, shortly after Taylor's birth. So it was that her father and three older brothers raised her- and admirably so. Concern had been voiced about Taylor growing up without a female figure in her life; some said it was unnatural, unhealthy and damaging to the young girl.

At worst, growing up around three brothers and a father who was away often, she would be treated badly, as a slave, hit, abused, punished for trivial things. Fenrir knew what it was like to grow up with parents who didn't care for their children. Luckily for Taylor, her remaining family members cared for her greatly.

If growing up without a mother had left any lasting damage, it would not be until Taylor's later life that the cracks would begin to show.

_A/N: for some reason, even though i've edited it a thousand times, the line separating the two parts doesn't show up ._._

_there's actually meant to be a break between taylor & fenrirs part... can any one help me out and maybe explain what I'm doing wrong? :3 thank you for reading :d_


	2. Chapter 2

Closing her eyes, Taylor exhaled. Colourful images flashed through her mind. The first time she rode a broomstick, bewitching the garden in the winter to keep the flowers in bloom, playing hide and seek with the statues her brothers had made move.

The sounds of laughter and joy filled her ears. The smell of bread, rosemary and stew mingled in with other memories of being a young girl. The feel of the newly fitted carpet under her bare feet, the hot sparks dancing off the freshly lit fire- along with the memories of events and smells came the memory of feeling, touching, _living_.

But not all memories are pleasant. No ones life was prefect, everyone experiences fear and uncertainty. Taylor was around nine when the full scale of trouble became apparent even to young children. She was eleven, about to start school when the good news came- the dark lord had been defeated. Harry potter- the boy who lived. The name was on everyone's lips; it had been a miraculous escape. As her father had been an Auror, more than once during the time of the first wizarding war, there had been secret letters, late night visits, sometimes over night stays of other wizards and witches, some too Aurors, some just seeking refuge. And though she was too young then to understand the know in her stomach that grew with every minute her father was late, or the way her pulse quickened when there was a knock on the door, she knew that something was wrong.

She hadn't wanted to seem scared, had put on a brave façade for her brothers. She was scared of being laughed at for being afraid, but soon she too saw that even her oldest brother was afraid. She embraced her fear, recognised it and it made her stronger.

The dark lord and his followers were vicious, ruthless and capable of everything. And then, from one day to the next, he had vanished. His followers melted back into the shadows from where they had come and peace returned. That September, Taylor too walked onto the Hogwarts express and rode off to a new life. On the way there, she and her two remaining brothers still at school had placed bets on which house she would be sorted into. She had won and received a chocolate frog from Jonathan as a prize. She promptly gave it away to some fourth years to keep them quiet in the common room. Smiling at the memory of her cocky 11 year old self, she thought back to the other older students. None of them had stuck in her memory, but Taylor remembered one- Fenrir Greyback. He was a huge, hulking beast of a young man. There had been something slightly off abut him, whether it was the faint smell of blood that surrounded him or the fact that, at 15, he had more facial hair than the average 18 year old.

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He had been somewhat of an oddball at school. He was different and the Morton girl picked up on that. She was tall and skinny and her jet-black hair contrasted to her ice blue eyes that seemed to be able to look through walls. At first, she had reminded Greyback- in her frailty and delicacy- of a thin twig, swaying softly in the breeze but threatening to snap in a gale. She had been anything but fragile though; she suffered multiple fractures the first quidditch match she played, had various potions explode in her face, and once, rather memorably, had had her nose broken when Peeves the poltergeist decided it might be funny to levitate a suit of armour into a crowd of students. Taylor had been too slow to duck and the armour had crashed against her, breaking her nose in two places. She had laughed and tried to conduct a conversation with the ghost about levitating charms, although it had been hard to understand what she had been saying, what with her voice coming out all nasally and her stemming the blood flow with her sleeve.

She was 13 when he left Hogwarts. They had kept in contact for a short while before he left fro Serbia. Two years later, he received a letter in whish she enquired of his health (and criminal record) and asked him whether he could help her learn more about becoming an Animagus. He had agreed to meet her in Hogsmeade Village. A young woman had approached him in the three broomsticks and he almost fell off his chair in wonder. Taylor Morton was no longer the young girl she had been in his memories, she had grown, started to spread her wings, fledge into a beautiful young witch.

They had talked for hours and as they did, Greyback felt his disgust and disdain of wizards ebb away. She left, headed back to the castle and the next time he heard her name mentioned, he was in Azkaban, she too was on the way into imprisonment.

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Merlin only knows what happened to her schoolmates. They probably all left Hogwarts with top marks in their NEWTs and started successful jobs while she lay in Azkaban.

Making a noise of disgust deep in her throat, Taylor opened her eyes and assessed her current situation. 15 years. 15 years she should have been in Azkaban. However, here she was, 4 years short of her sentence, free. Not that she was complaining, of course. She had simply…missed so much. The dementors hardly made the best effort at keeping the prisoners up to date- the only thing they did was keep the prisoners in a chronic state of depression which would hinder them from escaping. Sometimes though, she had heard snatches of current news when the Aurors stood guard. Harry potter, the boy who lived, was now around the same age she had been upon her imprisonment- 17 years old.

The dark lord had returned and Cornelius fudge, ex minister of magic, had left his post to scrimgeour, who was now dead. The new minister of magic, Pius Thicknesse, had been to Azkaban, flanked by two high-ranking ministry officials- Yaxley and Runcorn. The two had gone around some of the cells and talked to the inmates. They were lucky if they got a straight answer, or one at all- Azkaban could drive you mad.

Taylor had talked to them briefly after they peered in through the bars. Somehow they had been convinced that she was fit enough to leave and sane enough not to wreak havoc once released. They didn't say why she was released, although they probably had some hidden agenda. She was grateful, of course, but wary. After she was led from her cell and her wand was returned to her, she turned and bowed to Thicknesse, who had signed her order of release. She saw him lay the paper on top of a pile of other forms and papers, doubtlessly about her. Bidding them goodnight, she heard something about not hesitating to get in contact should she need anything, before she stepped out of the door, turned, and flew off across the choppy water away from Azkaban; a hawk fleeing from its shackle- anxious to fly away but hesitant for fear of the unknown.

It was so that a day later, she stood in front of her childhood home, staring down the empty house before stepping through and entering into childhood memories.


	3. Chapter 3

She had at first been hesitant to return to her childhood home, afraid perhaps, that her brothers or father still resided there, afraid of silent judgement, reproach. However, Taylor hadn't been too surprised to find the house dark, unlived in for some time, a battered 'for sale' sign outside. And, while she was sad her family had left her alone, she was glad that now at least no one could see her tears. They had started falling at the thought of her fellow schoolmates. Not so much tears at missing them, rather tears that she had let herself led astray and ended up in Azkaban instead of finishing her seventh year at Hogwarts. She had heard various things, snatches of conversation between the guards- Greyback had joined the services of the now returned dark lord, had been sprung out of Azkaban along with Bellatrix LeStrange. Taylor hadn't even known he was in Azkaban, although now thinking about it, she wasn't at all surprised. As he had grown up, Taylor had saw his unease, his malcontent grow. He hated wizards, that much was sure. He wasn't wizard himself, more animal than human. She had found out about his… condition early on, had managed to piece the puzzle pieces together. However, she hadn't seen it as an excuse to stay away, but rather spent more time with him. They didn't necessarily talk much; some evenings they simply walked around the grounds, sat in front of the roaring log fire in the common room, did their respective homework, all in silence. Greyback never talked much; he was someone of little eloquence in speech. Taylor had managed to decipher his feelings through his actions. She hoped she had at least made his time at Hogwarts somewhat more bearable.

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She had found out somehow that he as a werewolf he hadn't wanted anyone to know- he never told anyone. The last thing he needed was pity or stupid questions.

He knew the others at school didn't know _anything_- ignorance of how he felt, how he acted only fuelled his hate. Wizards, he had decided early on, were arrogant, cold-hearted, oblivious to anyone's needs but their own and ignorant. Not necessarily stupid but naïve and oh so ignorant. They had no idea what they faced out in the world. Greyback knew. When he was 13, his father, in drunken stupor killed his mother. The young boy had run away, felt nothing but hate for his father, soon himself for not stopping the murder and then the whole wizarding world for their inaction. Intense dislike and hate is a strong emotion for anyone, but at only 13, it ate him alive. He no longer saw himself as part of the wizarding world, didn't see himself as a wizard- he saw himself as a lost angel, damned to walk the earth, filled with anger. He tried to search for a valid excuse of his feelings towards wizards- he couldn't hate that which he too was.

Two weeks into his escape, he found himself in Knockturn Alley. He wasn't scared, but the other people he met were. Even grown wizards and witches hurried to get indoors as darkness fell. There had been rumours of a werewolf on the loose. Fenrir was oblivious. He strolled round and ended up inn a narrow alley. It bordered onto a canal and he sat for a while, watching the light of the full moon play on the water. He didn't hear anyone approach. Didn't notice the sound of heavy breathing, sniffing, claws scraping softly on the cobblestones.

He felt only pain- sudden, sharp, all consuming. It felt as if someone had left him to freeze then doused him in boiling water. Her felt his back ripped apart, felt the blood rush down, soaking his trousers. But the pain of his mauled back was nothing compared to what he experienced next. His short and tragically negative life flashed before his eyes- every living memory he could recall. His brain was going into overdrive, soon he saw just flashes of colour, the barrage of thoughts slowed down only sometimes, less at the beginning, but from the memories of age 7 upwards, he saw every terrible detail slowly, reliving the memory again. The first time his mother hit him, seeing her bruised and broken body once his father lashed out at her, blood dripping onto the floor from the gash on his head, his father snapping his broom before setting it on fire, screams, shouting, the seemingly positive lives his fellow students. His head filled with images of abuse and violence, all positive seeped out. Through the memories of tears, anguish, pain and anger, a new thought was beginning to grow. It felt like someone had poured acid not his veins, pushed salt into his open wounds. At his recollections of school, the two years he had so far experienced; at the thought of all the wizards and witches in no room, he felt a surge of something. For a second the pain stopped, to be replaced by pure, white-hot hatred. In his minds eye, he imagined going into frenzy, ripping those ignorant fools to shreds.

Bloodlust.

It coursed through his veins, filled his head. And suddenly, it felt right to fantasise about tearing their flesh apart, sinking his claws and teeth into the warm flesh…

As he dreamed, his subconscious tried to bring him back to the surface, remind him that he, too, was a wizard, he had neither fangs nor claws, he was human…

Exhausted, drained, losing blood rapidly, the young boy slumped over unconscious, eyes still wide open in shock, mouth open in a silent scream. No one was there to see his pupils contract in the moonlight, his incisors lengthen and sharpen, the blood flow stop or his body convulse, arching up, spine cracking.

He had been left for dead although now he was far from it. Later when he regained consciousness, he found a new reason to live- destroy wizards and their pathetic lives. He returned home as if nothing had happened, endured the beating in silence, bidding his time. Deep within, the beast had rid itself of its shackles; waiting, coiled up, ready to pounce and kill without a hint of remorse.

He returned to Hogwarts, too, as if he was still a normal teenager, but once a month, under cover of night, he ran into the grounds and killed anything and anyone in his path. He had found himself in the village of Hogsmeade once, had smelt out a young couple going for a walk to the river. They hadn't lasted long, even with their wands. Returning to the castle in the early morning, he would feel elated and free; before the sight of his fellow pupils drove him closer to the edge and he dreamed of the night he would phase in the castle and kills anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.

After every full moon, the animal inside retreated deep within, sated and calm but with every passing day, it inched further out of the darkness in his heart, drawing its lips back, salivating, pacing, waiting- hungry.


End file.
